


as the stars fall from your eyes

by lincesque



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Character Death, Gen, M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincesque/pseuds/lincesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war against the Titans leaves each of them with scars scratched deep into their souls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as the stars fall from your eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beancakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beancakes/gifts).



> I. Really, honestly, swear that I didn't mean to fall into this fandom. I just. Literally, I got into it a week ago and in the span of about five days, I've watched all the episodes and read all the chapters crey.
> 
> And then of course, I promptly decide that what better way to celebrate than to combine it with my other current love, Pacific Rim (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> My OTP is and will probably always be unashamedly Erwin/Levi (who are the reason I got into SnK tbh). Which explains why about 2.5 k of this atrocity is devoted to my sappy feels for them. The rest of it I wrote for [Beans](http://beaniebeancakes.tumblr.com) because she ships everything else. The only pairing I haven't managed to quite include is Ymir/Christa, but I'm plotting small side stories for this verse because, of course, I really want to get into Erwin and Levi's backstory a bit more eventually.
> 
> I've stuck to the 'official' spellings for names and surnames (looking at you, Bertholdt), but if there are any glaring mistakes around, please forgive me I am literally the noobest noob to ever noob ahfdoasjf.
> 
> Unbeta'd, written in a frenzy in less than two nights. IDEK man. I'm sorry if it makes no sense, and for the ridiculously cliched ending, but I really couldn't help myself because urhgoajf. (I also take no responsibility for the lameness of the Jaeger names, I just. Have no naming ability okafyoasdfj.)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy! Ilu, Beans (◕‿◕✿)~~~

 

**part i**

 

Eren watches his mother die, trapped within the burning remains of their house.

 

“Mom,” he screams and tries to crawl his way back to her. “Mom!”

 

Mikasa’s fingers are bruisingly tight around his wrist and Armin has his arms tight around Eren's waist, and both of them refuse to let go, refuse to let him return to his childhood home, back to certain death.

 

“Mom,” he says, and the word chokes in his throat as Mikasa and Armin push and shove him around a corner, just as a Titan foot comes down onto the roof. There’s a scream that cuts off much too abruptly.

 

He cries then, loud heaving sobs that tear from his chest and Mikasa is the one who holds him tight, arms around his shoulders. Armin’s tears are softer, but no less devastated and his pain is as deep as Eren’s because he’s just lost his grandfather too.

 

Mikasa is the only one who remains dry-eyed, but there’s a soul deep sadness there, buried behind the silent, still mask that she wears. Out of the three of them, Mikasa has always been the strongest, arguably, she’s also the one that feels the deepest.

 

“I’m going to kill them,” Eren vows, a promise sealed by the snarl in his voice and the taste of ash on his tongue. “I’m going to kill all of those filthy alien bastards.”

 

Mikasa blinks, slow, and her hands loosen from their firm grip around his arms. “We need to head north,” she says.

 

Armin wipes his tears away with the back of his hand and breathes in, one deep, shaky inhale. “Why north?”

 

It’s Eren who answers, picking himself up from the dirty pavement, eyes fixed on where the Titan howls its final death cry and falls to the ground, the back of its neck neatly severed. The Jaeger that stands over it gleams under the winter sun and the blades on its arms retracting into their compartments with a heavy metallic clank.

 

“The Jaeger Academy,” he says. “We’re enrolling in the Jaeger Academy.”

 

-

 

Armin’s not a fighter. He’s too small, too slow, he thinks too much. But he says nothing, keeps his silence and signs his name next to both Mikasa and Eren’s at the enrollment booth and walks into orientation with them, side by side.

 

“Only ten percent of you will graduate,” the recruiter says once everyone has been gathered. He’s an older man, balding. There’s a heavy sense of exhaustion that hangs around his shoulders. It’s a feeling that Armin’s noticed many of the veterans around the Academy echo.

 

Armin wonders how badly the war must be really going. The media tells them nothing except for propaganda, there’s recruitment posters on every street corner and you only ever hear the successes, the wins and so very rarely about the losses.

 

“The Academy isn’t a game, it’s not even a challenge,” the recruiter continues, back straight and steps firm despite everything. He stares down at all of them. “It’s hell, plain and simple. And it will do all of you wet-behind-the-ear children some good to remember that.”

 

He sweeps his gaze around, at the faces staring back at him and a sneer curls his upper lip. “Look at you all, fresh-faced, eager. You’re all going to be lambs to the slaughter.” He lifts an arm and points out, towards the Pacific, towards where the Breach is located. “The golden age of Jaegers is all but past, boys and girls. There’s no fame or riches left, only blood and sweat and your eventual death. It’s time to wake up and smell the fire.”

 

He stares down at them once more and smiles. The expression isn’t pleasant but his voice softens. “Those of you who have changed your mind can leave, no consequences.”

 

There’s a muted shuffling within the ranks and Armin’s almost surprised when the first few would-be trainees turn, hesitant, and walk out. The next few leave faster and soon enough, barely half the room remains.

 

Eren though, he's still standing straight and tall, head held high and staring right back at the recruiter, a furious challenge written in his eyes. Mikasa bumps her shoulder against Armin’s and nods at him, solemn as always. Armin nods back, swallowing his hesitation and his fear, and plants his feet wide.

 

Armin remembers the sticky feel of his grandfather’s blood over his fingers and the burning pain through his leg when the fence came down and left him pinned to the ground, screaming for help. He’s lost count of the times he’s had to rip stolen shirts into strips to bandage Eren’s bruised ribs and Mikasa’s bloodied fists. He remembers still, how it felt to cry until his chest hurt and his eyes burnt and for there to be nothing but the taste of blood and dirt left coating his tongue. He can still remember the warmth of Eren’s arms and the gentleness of Mikasa’s hand curled around his on the nights they lay beneath the stars, just the three of them. These are all the reasons he stays, head held high, blue eyes fierce.

 

The Jaeger Academy might be hell, but Armin’s certain that it’s nothing that the three of them haven’t survived already.

 

-

 

Eren’s not a leader, he’s never going to be a leader and no one knows this fact better than Mikasa.

 

Eren’s too young, too much of a brat, too hot-headed and most terrifying of all, he has a deathwish that Mikasa cannot erase.

 

She does her best though, curling up against him in the bottom bunk of their shared dorm when he tosses and turns in the night, nightmares swarming him, leaving him whimpering as tears trickle down his cheeks. She’s there by his side during training, teaching him the defensive moves before the offensive forms in the Kwoon room and helping him perfect his stances through the night. She sits with him and lets him hold her hand just a shade too tight and doesn’t begrudge him the pain of bruises against her skin.

 

“Slow down,” she says to him, again and again. Words gentle, eyes even more so.

 

Eren never listens though, no matter how many times she says it, no matter how she phrases it. He pushes himself hard - sleeps little, eats less - and every minute he’s not training, he’s reading in the Academy library. Mikasa has lost count of the number of times that Eren's fallen asleep, slumped over battle plans and victory counts, face pressed against tactical maps and mission reports. She and Armin, they are the two who tip toe after him, tidying up his messes and sliding books and folders back into their rightful place. Mikasa is the one who always carries Eren back to their room and tucks him into his bed. These are the nights she lingers at his bedside and brushes her fingers across the pulse at his neck, making sure that he still breathes, that his heart still beats strong.

 

She’s never been good at reassurance. She’s always been the one that stared down the bullies who came after Eren, who beat them black and blue for even looking at him the wrong way. She’s never been the one to make him lemonade and tell him that everything was going to be alright.

 

Nothing is alright, she knows, because cold facts and hard truths are what she reads with ease and accepts with grace. Mikasa doesn’t want to be here, but then again, she doesn’t want to be anywhere. The only place she wants to be is beside Eren, following him and protecting him to the very end.

 

Eren’s never going to be a leader, because he’s too reckless and too stupid and much too young, but Mikasa doesn’t care. She’s going to follow him into the mouth of hell and beyond because he’s the last thing she’ll ever care for, the last person she'll ever love, and she would die before she let him come to any harm.

 

-

 

Jean was never meant to be a pilot. He wanted to work in the Shatterdome, sure, but he never wanted to risk life and limb strapped into the Conn-Pod of a machine two hundred feet tall, built to kill.

 

It’s unfortunate for him that not only does he possess the aptitude to pass all the pilot trials with flying colours, he’s also Drift compatible with one of his fellow classmates. Marco is actually a year above him in the academy, but had willingly stayed another year just so he and Jean could undergo training together.

 

 _Initiating neural handshake_ , the Jaeger AI murmurs.

 

As the bridge forms between them, Jean can feel Marco's excitement and buried beneath that, a flash of his fear.

 

Jean reaches back with a wordless assurance of warmth and they dive into the Drift together, an endless freefall with nothing but them, hand in hand, mind in mind.

 

 _I’m here_ , Jean says, but doesn’t speak the words out out loud, _I might never have wanted this job, never wanted a Jaeger, but it’s alright, because I have you_.

 

There’s the taste of candy in his mouth from the fifth birthday he never celebrated and the stiffness in his back from pouring over books in a school he never attended. He feels the phantom ache of a broken arm he’s never had, from that one time he never went skateboarding with friends who wear the faces of strangers.

 

These are Marco’s thoughts, Jean thinks, his memories, his life. He’s still staggered by the trust, by the sheer intimacy of the Drift. It’s not the first time they’ve done it, but perhaps this is the deepest it’s ever been. Jean breathes and the feeling of freefall slows until he’s merely sinking.

 

“Are you ready for this?” Marco asks as their Conn-Pod connects and their Jaeger wakens around them. His mind echoes, _Are you afraid?_

 

“Never,” Jean replies and he thinks, _Yes, yesyesyesyes_ , and knows that Marco hears it all.

 

Marco’s the first person’s who’s known Jean for what he really is - a coward, someone who would rather run than fight - and still stays by his side.

 

“You’re none of those,” Marco tells him, firm, as _Victory Rose_ deploys.

 

-

 

Marco dies in the line of duty.

 

“He died a hero,” Marshall Smith says, voice solid and grave, when he gives the speech. Jean’s listened to too many over the last few years and it’s not even the first he’s had to sit through for one of his fellow classmates. Five months ago, it was for Bertholdt and Reiner who had been assigned to the Vladivostok Shatterdome after graduation. It was during lunch when the news broke - when everyone had fallen silent as they were told that Bertholdt and Reiner had been taken down near the Siberian coastline, swarmed by two Giant Class Titans, each over 50 meters tall, and a multitude of smaller Demon Class.

 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, later, in the dim quietness of the Marshall’s office. As expected, Levi is there as well, leaning against the wall behind the desk, scowling.

 

Erwin stands, and Jean sometimes forgets how tall the Marshall really is, or maybe he sometimes forgets how small he really is. “Is this your decision, Jean?” he asks and his tone gives nothing away.

 

Jean stands straighter and doesn’t meet Erwin’s eyes. “Yes, sir.”

 

“What complete and utter bullshit.” Jean’s startled enough by the sneering words that he makes the mistake of looking up. Levi meets his gaze head on and he’s pushed away from the wall, stalking around the desk to stand before Jean.

 

“Utter. Bullshit,” Levi repeats, shoving his finger into Jean’s chest with each word and Erwin leans back, seemingly content for whatever was about to happen to run its course.

 

“Sir?” Jean thinks that he keeps his voice remarkably steady.

 

Levi’s small, barely up to Jean’s shoulder even clad in his boots, but at that moment, he seems to tower over him by sheer presence alone. He’s _humanity’s strongest_ , and he’s every inch a soldier who’s stared into the abyss of death and spat into its face.

 

“Do you think your co-pilot died just so he could watch you run away with your tail between your legs?” Levi asks. He conveys his contempt with the curl of his upper lip, the disgust written so clearly in his eyes. “Are you going to turn your back on your comrades as lay their lives down on the line? Hide away while your co-pilot lies rotting in his grave? Are you?”

 

“That’s enough, Levi.” Erwin’s hand closes on Levi’s shoulder, a brief touch that silences Levi immediately. His eyes though, dark and narrowed, never leave Jean’s, silently judging.

 

Jean inhales and can’t think of anything but Marco. Marco sprawled over the couch in their room, reading. Marco offering Jean the chocolate pudding he sneaked out of the mess hall. Marco who always had a smile for him, always had a kind word. Marco who loved Jean unreservedly, with all his heart and never had to say, because within the Drift, there were no secrets.

 

“What’s it going to be, Kirchstein,” Levi drawls, when Erwin lets him go once more. He steps into Jean’s space without a care, tilting his head up to meet Jean’s eyes. “Tell me, are you going to die a coward? Or are you going to die a soldier?”

 

Jean is not Eren, who is too foolish to feel fear, nor is he Mikasa, who wields her fear as a weapon and shows no mercy, he’s also not Armin, who fears, but has learnt to control it, to overcome it, for his friends. Jean is not Levi or Erwin or Hanji or Mike, or any of the countless pilots and technicians who’ve waged this seemingly endless war against an impossible enemy for decades.

 

The answer lies on the tip of his tongue because Jean is and always will be a coward. He’ll always run from a fight, always flee rather than engage.

 

 _You’re none of those_ , Marco had always said and believed. And Jean thinks, as he clenches his fists tight, that perhaps it's time he stood up and became the man that Marco always believed he was. Jean figures that he's let Marco down too many times already, he’s not going to let him down ever again.

 

“A soldier, sir!” he shouts, chin up, shoulders straight and he slams his right fist against his heart, a wordless reiteration of the oath he took on the day he graduated, an oath he never wanted to take but believes in nevertheless.

 

Jean’s not sure what his expression looks like, but Levi’s responding grin is all teeth, no humour and there’s the barest hints of something that’s not quite revulsion in his eyes now.

 

“You’ll report to the Kwoon room at oh-six hundred sharp,” Erwin says and he smiles at Jean, the bare curve of his lips almost proud. “I’ll send all the potential pilot candidates to you for compatibility testing.”

 

Jean shakes his head. “No need, sir.” At Erwin’s raised brow, he continues. “There were two people I was Drift compatible with during the Academy,” he says. “Marco and I had the steadier neural handshake, but Armin Arlert and I, we had the higher Drift compatibility.”

 

-

 

 

**interlude**

 

“What do we do now?” Bertholdt asks Reiner in the aftermath. They stand shoulder to shoulder, bruised and filthy, in a tiny alleyway of a long abandoned town.

 

They have no one but each other, their home long gone, crushed into dust and grit and blood beneath Titan feet. They’ve wandered, from city to city, from town to town, looking and searching for what, they don’t even know.

 

Reiner tightens his fingers where they’re curled around Bertholdt’s hand and he hesitates, because he doesn’t really know either. They’re both hungry and tired, but there’s no food, not even scraps left here and neither of them dare to rest for long because there are Titans that still roam free in this part of the country. The smaller ones often escape the notice of the Pan Pacific Survey Corps until it’s too late.

 

He looks down and maybe it's fate when he sees the advertisement beneath his feet, torn and muddied, but still legible.

 

 _Join the Jaeger Academy_ , it tells him in bold letters and bright splashes of colour.

 

Reiner smiles as he bends to pick it up. “We’re gonna become heroes.”

 

-

 

Maybe it’s a little of a surprise to everyone else that the two of them, the orphaned country bumpkins they are, make it through the first two stages of pilot training.

 

“Like it’s even hard,” Reiner scoffs one day, deliberately loud in the middle of the mess hall. The other trainees turn away quickly, pretending that they hadn’t been staring and whispering.

 

Bertholdt says nothing, only smiling and pushing his dessert onto Reiner’s tray.

 

They’re flawless in the Kwoon room as well, anticipating each other’s attacks and reading the flow of movement with the ease born from being best friends from the cradle.

 

“What Drift technology?” Reiner sneers as they send another pair crawling off the mats. He swings his staff into a vicious arc and looks around the room, daring anyone else to challenge them, the undefeated kings they are. “We don’t need any machine to join our minds, we can read each other just as well without it.”

 

“Is that so?” a low voice asks from a corner and Reiner’s standing in front of Bertholdt immediately, stepping between him and the unknown threat.

 

A man strides out of the shadows, all lithe movement and deadly grace. Even if they’ve been more or less cut off from the world before, Reiner still recognises the one they revere as _humanity’s strongest_.

 

“Trainee Fubar, Trainee Braun,” Levi says, head tilted, whether in interest or something else, it is hard to say. He’s shorter than Reiner had expected, but there’s a sense of suppressed violence, of a personality that’s much bigger than his physical stature and Reiner doesn’t even doubt for a moment that Levi could take both him and Bertholdt down without breaking a sweat.

 

The uncomfortable realisation prickles at his spine and he feels his back straighten despite himself.

 

“You are ordered to report to the Drift Simulator tomorrow at oh-seven-hundred hours.” Levi looks them up and down and this time the motion is deliberately dismissive. “Let’s see if your actions can live up to your words, trainees.”

 

-

 

Drifting is easier than breathing.

 

“Oh,” Reiner says when he falls into Bertholdt’s mind for the first time. He’s always known that Bertholdt was beautiful, but it’s doubly true for his mind.

 

Bright, vivid colours flash around him and soft memories wrap around him, filled with warmth and joy - _he’s meeting Reiner/Bertholdt for the first time; he’s staring at the way Reiner/Bertholdt laughs again; he’s leaning over the table, braced on sweaty palms and pressing his lips to Reiner/Bertholdt’s for the first time; he reaches over and Reiner/Bertholdt is reaching back and their fingers touch_ -

 

Reiner falls and falls and falls and doesn’t ever want to stop.

 

 _If I die_ , he thinks, _this is how I want it to end_.

 

Bertholdt’s response is a hot surge of anger that burns painfully against his mind, his heart.

 

 _If it ends_ , Bertholdt says, in the dead silence of the Drift, fierce, _then we die together_.

 

Reiner smiles.

 

-

 

“Reiner, get up,” Bertholdt’s hand is cold against his shoulder and he's shaken once, twice. “LOCCENT’s reported that two Giant Class Titans have been spotted approaching the coast. We need to suit up.”

 

Reiner stretches and cracks opens an eye, still feeling too warm and drowsy to move. “I had a dream,” he mumbles instead.

 

“You can tell me while you get dressed,” Bertholdt tells him, exasperated and fond, as he pulls him up into a seated position and shoves him lightly.

 

“‘member that party in your ma’s flower garden, when you turned six?” Reiner asks as he gropes around the bed for the shirt he had thrown somewhere in this direction last night, with one hand. The other covers a yawn.

 

Bertholdt’s soft laugh is almost muffled by the thin t-shirt he’s pulling over his head. “Who could forget? Stephan pushed me into the pond because he wanted my slice of cake and then you hit him and broke his nose.”

 

Reiner hooks the back of Bertholdt’s shirt and drags him down, back to their warm sheets. “He picked on you," he mutters. "What did he expect?”

 

He’s awake now, more or less, and he leans over and kisses Bertholdt, a fleeting brush over his lips. “I dreamt of it last night,” Reiner murmurs, fingers tracing the soft blush that runs across Bertholdt’s cheekbone. “And I remembered that that was I knew that I was in love with you.”

 

Bertholdt’s smile is beautiful.

 

 _Twenty minutes to launch_ , the LOCCENT AI announces.

 

“Ready to suit up and kill some Titan trash?” Reiner asks as he scrambles now to pull on both his jeans and his boots.

 

Bertholdt drapes Reiner’s jacket over his shoulders and gives him a hand up.

 

“With you?” he says. “Always.”

 

 _Fifteen minutes to launch_ , the AI reminds them, _Ares Strike pilots are to report for suit up procedures immediately_.

 

Reiner leans over, touching his forehead to Bertholdt’s, their pre-mission ritual.

 

“If it ends today,” he says, words rolling off his tongue almost too easily by rote. “then we die together.”

 

“Then we die together,” Bertholdt echoes, words just as fierce as it had been that first time.

 

-

 

 

** part ii **

 

 

 _Flügel der Freiheit_ is as beautiful as the day it was built - all chrome and darkened stealth panels. It stands tall and unwavering, restored to its former glory, and it is still the bright symbol of hope it was almost a decade ago.

 

Levi hates the sight of that fucking machine, he’s hated it the moment he had seen it, spit shined and polished to perfection, standing at rest in the Hong Kong Shatterdome. He would rip it down with his bare hands if he could because of what it represents, what it really means right here, right now. But he’s only human, limited to wreaking havoc in smaller measures.

 

Nevertheless, people still scatter out of his way as he storms down the corridor, shoving past several pilot teams and their crew without a single by your leave. No one says anything, merely scrambling to get themselves out of his path before he steps right over them.

 

“What the fuck are you thinking,” Levi snarls when he kicks in the door to the suit up room just below _Flügel der Freiheit’s_ Conn-Pod.

 

The technicians who surround Erwin look up, startled, but Erwin himself doesn’t even turn, merely lifting his arms for the final plates to be fastened to his sides and the screws to be secured. The technicians, taking their lead from their Marshall, lower their heads and finish up as fast as they can. They make sure to close the door after themselves when they leave.

 

“Levi,” Erwin says and his voice is flat, reasonable. His fingers flex in his gloves as he tests the give and there’s something unreadable in his eyes.

 

Levi’s been able to read Erwin, always. They’ve known each other for too long - ever since the first moment that Erwin had held out his hand to a dirty street kid and smiled. Erwin was the one who sponsored him into the Jaeger Academy, the one who had stood by his side against all the nasty whispers when he broke one record after another - highest Drift compatibility, highest simulator score. Then, eventually, when he went into the field and the nastiness turned to fear, Erwin still remained beside him - solid and dependable - smiling with pride as Levi was awarded medal after medal - most hours in a Drift, highest kill count, undefeated. 

 

 _Humanity’s strongest_ , they call him. Levi would laugh if he didn’t think it would choke in his throat.

 

It’s all a lie, Levi knows. He’s never been as strong as they thought he was, he would have never been as strong as they think he is if it hadn’t been for Erwin. Because it was Erwin who gave him a second chance, Erwin who gave him a reason to live again. It was Erwin who had smiled at him all those years ago and asked him one simple question that had never needed an answer.

 

Erwin was his cornerstone, his partner, his co-pilot. And now Erwin suits up, tall and lean, in a black pilot suit with the wings of freedom emblazoned over his heart, readying himself for  _Flügel der Freiheit_ 's Conn-Pod alone, without Levi.

 

“You can’t do this,” Levi tells him, stepping right into Erwin’s personal space and knocking the helmet out of his hands. They both pretend they can’t hear the waver in Levi’s voice, the hiss of his words being forced from between clenched teeth. “You can’t.”

 

Erwin stares down at Levi and his gaze is a burning blue, deep and implacable like the sea. “Levi,” he says, again, and it sounds like disappointment.

 

“You’re going to fucking die,” Levi yells and he slams a fist into Erwin’s chestplate, against his heart.

 

Erwin’s eyes soften and he removes his gloves, tearing off the straps around his wrist with his teeth and tosses them to the table. His bare hands come up to cradle Levi’s face. “Levi,” he repeats and this time the word is fond, gentle and Erwin strokes the sharp arch of Levi’s cheekbones, his fingers cool against warm skin.

 

Erwin leans down and Levi’s there to meet him halfway. Their kiss is bittersweet and desperate and Levi buries his fingers into Erwin’s hair, pretending that the salt he tastes against his lips aren’t from tears.

 

There’s something that’s almost a smile in Erwin’s eyes when he pulls away, a trembling emotion set against the curve of his lips, when he takes one step, then two, back.

 

“Come to me,” he says, holding out his hand, and it’s almost their first meeting all over again.

 

Levi stares up at him, heartbeat thudding strong and loud in his chest. He stares at the beautiful, golden knight who had saved his life when it still counted and Levi finally realises that this is love the very moment he realises that this is goodbye. His hand trembles in the air before their fingertips touch and their palms meet.

 

The heat of Erwin’s fingers sear into his skin, and then Erwin curls his hand around Levi's wrist, bruisingly tight. Selfishly, Levi hopes that it leaves a brand, a mark for him to carry forever.

 

“Levi.” And when Erwin says his name this time, it sounds like warmth and home and want and eternity. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

 

The same question that he asked that very first day, the same question that has never needed an answer.

 

Until now.

 

-

 

Erwin had always known that this was going to be the way it was going to end.

 

He slides into the neural uplink easily and ignores the uneasy pressure against his chest, against his mind. The Drift is strong, especially with just one pilot at the controls, shouldering the burden of the neural load alone. But he also knows that his connection with _Flügel der Freiheit_ has always and will always be stronger. There's the flicker of Levi's silhouette at the corner of his vision, to his right, but Erwin knows it's just a ghost, a memory floating up from within the Drift - both from him and from _Flügel der Freiheit_ itself.

 

“Neural link steady and holding,” Connie says and he sounds terribly brave for a boy his age. Erwin regrets the necessity of bringing war to these children, soldiers of fate and fortune and still much too young, but in the decades long struggle against the Titans, there’s been less and less choice.

 

There’s a brief scuffling sound before Levi’s voice replaces Connie's softer tone in his ear. “Don’t fuck this up,” Levi snaps at him.

 

Erwin knows that Levi won’t be able to see his smile, but he can’t help the expression anyway, soft and fond. He’s never known another way to respond to Levi.

 

“I’ll be back to take the Marshall badge off your chest,” Erwin tells him mildly, guiding his Jaeger down onto the seabed, leading their three Jaeger strike team.

 

 _Victory Rose_ and _Alpha Hunter_ follow close behind him, swords out and there’s a taut silence that falls over their comms then, uneasy and hard to break.

 

His radar is showing no signs of life apart from them and there is nothing but the endless stretch of sea before him. The silence is almost eerie. Erwin doesn't relax, doesn't let his guard down, but there's a tiny part of him that starts to think that _maybe_ -

 

And that’s when the first three Colossal Titans appear out of nowhere, with no warning, and slam _Flügel der Freiheit_ against a coral reef, one holding each arm and the third hammering repeatedly at the Conn-Pod.

 

“We’re surrounded,” Erwin shouts as a warning even as _Flügel der Freiheit's_ twin blades slide out and he rams them through the first Titan.

 

He's made a mistake, Erwin knows, because he had forgotten that there is no maybe in war.

 

-

 

 

\- he’s so small, too thin by half but the fierceness in his eyes makes Erwin smile.

 

“Do you trust me?” Erwin asks.

 

The boy snarls at him and -

 

 

\- he stands taller and moves against his opponents in the Kwoon room effortlessly, bringing them all down, one after the other without breaking a sweat.

 

Erwin smiles down at him.

 

The boy - no, Levi - smiles back and he -

 

 

\- kisses like he fights - with everything he has.

 

“Do you trust me?” Erwin asks, and the words are murmured across the pale skin of Levi's jaw.

 

Levi leans up and his answer is -

 

 

-

 

_"Yes."_

 

-

 

"Marshall, sir -" Eren pleads over their private comms. "There has to be another way."

 

Erwin arms his nuclear warhead and presses down on the _confirm_ button flashing onscreen. "This is the only way. Clear out to a safe perimeter, that's an order," he says curtly and cuts any further reply off.

 

He exhales as _Flügel der Freiheit_ strides into the middle of the mass of Titans lurching about. They turn to face him, and their grossly distorted features widening into something that could be a smile. Erwin stands perfectly still in his Conn-Pod, watching, waiting until both _Alpha Hunter_ and _Victory Rose_ vanish from his radar.

 

There's a crackle of static through his comm system. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Levi demands and there's a barely noticible tremour beneath his words because he knows, they both know.

 

“Levi,” Erwin says as the countdown rings loud in his ears.

 

 _I love you_ , he doesn’t say because there's no time for things like useless confessions or needless sentimentality. There's only enough time for one last word.

 

“Levi,” he repeats and he closes his eyes as the AI whispers _zero_ into his ear.

 

-

 

There’s a sound that rings in the too-still silence of the LOCCENT control room. It echoes and echoes, getting louder and louder and a part of Levi wonders why no one else is putting their hands to their ears to block it away. The rest of him is frozen, numb, and he cannot breathe because there's too much pressure against his lungs.

 

 _Levi_ , Erwin had said, at the end, and the sharp pain of that memory cuts him out of his daze and almost brings him to his knees.

 

He realises then that there is no echo, no sound, and that the reason that no one else is trying to block it away is because no one else can hear the sound of his heart shattering.

 

Levi breathes in, a sharp inhale that does nothing to ease the burning pain across his chest.

 

“Sir.” Eren’s voice is unsteady, shaking. “What do we -”

 

“You finish the fucking mission, Yeager,” Levi snarls at him.

 

“But sir, the Marshall, he’s -” _dead_ , that’s the word that even Eren cannot bring himself to say.

 

Levi’s fingers are wrapped around the microphone so tightly that the jut of  the metal almost bites bloody into the pads of his fingers. “The Marshall gave his life in order to buy you and _Victory Rose_ the time you need to seal that fucking Breach,” he says, the edges on his words are honed until they’re sharper than a metal blade. “Are you going to waste his sacrifice, soldier?”

 

Eren’s reply is just as sharp, a loud, staccato response. “No, sir!”

 

“We’ll get this done,” Jean says, grimly determined, from _Victory Rose_. It occurs to Levi suddenly that maybe out of all of them, Jean is the one who understands the most - after all, they've both lost their co-pilots, their anchors, their meaning. “We’ll finish this for once and for all.”

 

Levi stands tall, shoulders back, head held high and everyone else averts their eyes from the way his white knuckled fists tremble at his sides and the thin trickle of blood that paints the corner of his lips and his teeth.

 

-

 

“Fifty yards, sir,” Eren says as _Alpha Hunter_ closes in on the Breach, _Victory Rose_ right behind. _Alpha Hunter_ is smaller, but its lighter and its reflexes are lightning fast. It clears the way for _Victory Rose_ , sword sweeping viciously through the much smaller crowd of Titans, faster than the naked eye can follow.

 

“Arming package,” Mikasa adds, voice calm, as the readouts in LOCCENT go red, signalling that the nuclear payload was online and ready for detonation. The atmosphere in LOCCENT is so tense that Connie is honestly surprised that his fingers aren't shaking on each downstroke of the keys.

 

From the corner of his eye, Connie sees Hanji lean over to take the microphone from Levi. The action is almost gentle.

 

“Remember, boys and girls," she chirps brightly, "you need to make sure you push one of my babies through first okay? Maybe Sean, because he seems like the leader type.” Her voice tightens, turning from flippant to serious in a single heartbeat. “The Breach won’t open for anything but a Titan, so once Sean goes through, shove the package down and then put Bean through. It’ll ensure that the payload reaches the other side for detonation before the Breach closes.”

 

“Roger that,” Armin says and it must be the Drift, because there’s an echo of Jean’s cockiness on the edges of his voice.

 

“Ten yards,” Connie murmurs and every eye in the LOCCENT control room is fixed on the mission screen.

 

 _Victory Rose_ reaches the Breach first, jamming one of the live, bound Titans it carries directly into the Breach. There's a crackle of energy, dark and slimy, before the Breach opens wide, swallowing the Titan whole

 

“Here goes nothing!” Eren yells and their nuclear payload starts the live countdown as it shoots into the void after the Titan.

 

_Fifteen._

 

_Fourteen._

 

“You have five seconds to get the other one through, Victory,” Connie tells them, fingers flying over his keyboard, checking stats and base-lines, making sure that the immediate area was clear of any encroaching Titans threats.

 

_Eleven._

 

_Ten._

 

“Six of the Armoured Class approaching to your west, Alpha,” Connie is saying just as Jean’s triumphant shout sounds over the comms.

 

“Second Titan through,” Jean reports even as Connie signals for a retreat.

 

“Alpha, Victory, both of you need to get the hell out of there right now.”

 

“The payload?” Levi demands from somewhere behind him.

 

_Five._

 

_Four._

 

“Almost entirely through the Breach,” Connie says, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the free falling bomb nestled between the two Titans who are taking it back to their homeworld. If Connie was a man more inclined to words, he would say it was almost poetic in a way, that the Titans return to their world not with a victory, but with an end.

 

_Three._

 

_Two._

 

_One._

 

But he isn't because he's only a lowly operations tech. Instead, Connie stands as the screen goes a brilliant blue-green, and that one abrupt motion shoves his chair back sharply enough that it topples over. “It’s through, sir!”

 

 _Detonation successful_ , reports the AI.

 

Connie holds himself still, not daring to take his eyes off his screen. He watches as the Breach folds in on itself, faster and faster until it’s nothing more than a speck and then, even that is gone.

 

“The Titans left on our side?” Levi barks.

 

Eren sounds almost cheerful. “Taken care of, already, sir. Half of them jumped into the Breach after the payload. We wiped the rest of them out, easy.”

 

Connie feels himself shaking, because all this, it can only mean one thing. He turns to Levi, wide-eyed. “The Breach is gone. No Titans remain. It’s over, sir!”

 

Levi stares at the screen and his face is unreadable except for the crease of pain between his brows. Hanji places a hand on Levi’s shoulder and the gesture is so gentle.

 

“Marshall,” she says and Levi flinches, hard. Her grip tightens on Levi’s shoulder and Connie pulls himself up straighter, fighting the urge to shift in discomfort. The moment seems too private, with the way that Levi is averting his face, shrinking from the touch and the soft look of sympathy written across Hanji’s face.

 

“Marshall,” Hanji repeats and Connie realises that she’s really as fearless as any of the pilots, because the look in Levi's eyes that is leveled at her would've killed a lesser man. “Would you make the announcement?”

 

She leans in closer and Connie only hears her words because he stands right beside them.

 

 _Do this_ , she whispers, _for him_.

 

And Levi slumps, all the fight in him extinguished by four little words. He lowers his head and takes the microphone that Hanji presses into his hands.

 

“The Apocalypse is over,” he says, when Connie’s now-fumbling fingers finally connected it to the Shatterdome wide speakers. Levi’s voice rings clear, despite the grief that tightens his jaw which is only visible to those close by. “Through the countless sacrifices made by the men and women of this Corps,” he continues, “because of your hard work, we’ve finally prevailed.”

 

“You can stop that countdown. We’ve stopped the fucking Apocalypse.”

 

The first of the cheers ring out, growing louder as more and more people realise that they’ve finally won, that humanity has finally beaten the Titans.

 

Connie bows his head and thinks of Christa and Ymir, the first of their casualties, defending New York til the end. He remembers Bertholdt and Reiner, who had died buying time for the millions of inhabitants on the Siberian coastline to evacuate. He thinks of Marco, of Annie, of the countless men and women whose bravery resulted in today’s victory.

 

The PPSC oath is simply: _I offer my heart_.

 

And Connie knows that every single person here today and every single person who came before them have not only given their hearts, but they've given their souls and most have given up their very lives.

 

It’s a terrible price to pay, he thinks, as he watches the pained, bitter line of Levi’s shoulders when he turns and walks away. But Connie knows, even as Hanji straightens and she draws her fist against her heart - a silent salute of farewell to their Marshall, and a sign of respect to Levi, to all of the servicemen and women of the Corps - that maybe, perhaps, the peace that will now follow will be worth the sacrifice.

 

He lifts his head and follows Hanji’s lead - right fist across his chest, over his heart. The rest of the 'dome, who stare up at the brightly lit LOCCENT control room do the same.

 

“I offer my heart,” Hanji says, raising her voice, loud and clear.

 

“I offer my heart,” Connie echoes.

 

And the entire Shatterdome rumbles with the sound of a hundred, a thousand, voices repeating the same oath.

 

_I offer my heart._

 

-

 

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> find me on my new [sub-tumblr](http://rolloncat.tumblr.com/), apparently just for my snk feels what even (屮゜Д゜)屮


End file.
